07-04-2018, 09:42 AM
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The elemental witch's ears twitched as she heard her half-brother's call - doctor tryouts, hm? She found herself a bit surprised; since she came to the Typhoon, they seemed not to have a permanent physician around. Rosemary assumed that most of them weren't interested in the stuff, and the pirates thought themselves above healing knowledge; this impression got supported by her small, informal herbal lesson.
Walking over with quiet pawsteps, the mutated ocelot's main eyes drifted to Goldie as she headed for her injured niece. Sometimes, like now, Rosemary just wanted to swaddle the child in bubblewrap and keep her locked inside the belly of their ship. "You should rest; I'll make you some poppy tea after this so you can sleep, okay?" she spoke, her forked tail attempting to touch Goldie where her lightning hadn't burned her. Well aware that Pincher and Goldie couldn't sleep these days, she frustrated herself as she tried to keep tabs on their behavior and activities; unfortunately, Rosemary still needed sleep to function, and trying to chase down two insomniacs made for an exhausting and often futile endeavor. Goldie's activities, at least, seemed benign - even if still too dangerous in the overprotective aunt's opinion - but Pincher?
While she wondered about this, her auxiliary eyes appraised the herbal book and stash of plants by her half-brother. It seemed he meant to make this tryout academically based, which suited Rosemary fine. Her auxiliary and main eyes converged on Pincher as she softly proclaimed, "I'll be trying out." Obviously, she added inside her head; she wasn't sure who else would seriously try out for the position. She knew of only one other person that held a bit more than basic knowledge, but Argus irritated the ocelot (besides, the wolf seemed far more interested in warfare than healing). Rosemary didn't quite understand what the position's responsibilities actually held, but she assumed it was self-explanatory: keep everyone alive.
Walking over with quiet pawsteps, the mutated ocelot's main eyes drifted to Goldie as she headed for her injured niece. Sometimes, like now, Rosemary just wanted to swaddle the child in bubblewrap and keep her locked inside the belly of their ship. "You should rest; I'll make you some poppy tea after this so you can sleep, okay?" she spoke, her forked tail attempting to touch Goldie where her lightning hadn't burned her. Well aware that Pincher and Goldie couldn't sleep these days, she frustrated herself as she tried to keep tabs on their behavior and activities; unfortunately, Rosemary still needed sleep to function, and trying to chase down two insomniacs made for an exhausting and often futile endeavor. Goldie's activities, at least, seemed benign - even if still too dangerous in the overprotective aunt's opinion - but Pincher?
While she wondered about this, her auxiliary eyes appraised the herbal book and stash of plants by her half-brother. It seemed he meant to make this tryout academically based, which suited Rosemary fine. Her auxiliary and main eyes converged on Pincher as she softly proclaimed, "I'll be trying out." Obviously, she added inside her head; she wasn't sure who else would seriously try out for the position. She knew of only one other person that held a bit more than basic knowledge, but Argus irritated the ocelot (besides, the wolf seemed far more interested in warfare than healing). Rosemary didn't quite understand what the position's responsibilities actually held, but she assumed it was self-explanatory: keep everyone alive.
I FEEL SO HUNGRY —
— Dear diary, I don't know what's going on, but something's up / The dog won't stop barking, and I think my TV is bust / Every channel is the same, it's sending me insane / And earlier somebody bit me, what a fucking day / The sky is falling / It's fucking boring / I'm going braindead, isolated / God is a shithead / And we're his rejects / Traumatized for breakfast / I can't stomach any more survival horror / Dear diary, I feel itchy like there's bugs under my skin / The dog's gone rabid (shut the fuck up) / Doing my head in —— WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?